


Limits

by zuotian



Series: Vassal [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dildos, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Femdom, Post-Canon, Rimming, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28253646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuotian/pseuds/zuotian
Summary: As time passed Link grew more comfortable with the fact that he was Zelda's subordinate privately, when publicly he was now her cooperative on political grounds. He became more reliant on the brief, possessive passes Zelda cleverly performed in full view of others, which both settled his nerves and washed him in anticipatory lust. Eventually he was buzzing with need for her to dominate him once more.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Vassal [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069682
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	Limits

**Author's Note:**

> after this i wanna get real weird with it.

Link was a formidable warrior, but most of his skills were based in intuition, not intellect, and proved difficult to translate into training. It did not help that his pupils were peasants—eager, capable peasants, but peasants nonetheless. Trauma inherited from the Calamity had hardened the present generation, wherein survival necessitated a certain amount of grit. But fighting monsters that had strayed onto family land was a lot different than the conduct expected of a knight. Link did not need fighters, he needed soldiers. His students lacked discipline—and so did he. 

As their instructor it was his duty to lead by example. In order to lead he needed to learn. Learning entailed holing himself up in the castle’s library. Some books and scrolls had been lost to the passage of time, others destroyed by the muck of the Calamity’s infestation. The stock of literature was a fraction of what the royal family once had, but anything was better than nothing. 

Link thus found himself studying by late into the night with Zelda while she read thick tomes on ethics and politics. His literacy was rudimentary at best, and the old tactics and treaties Zelda foisted upon him were rife with convoluted vocabulary. He often had to interrupt her own studies, whereupon she would retrieve a dictionary they kept on hand and assist him with a particularly troublesome passage. She would then have him rewrite its meaning in his own words, and soon he had a collection of notes large enough to constitute his own book. 

His relationship with the princess hadn’t changed much since the introduction of their new power dynamic. It was a subtle shift, manifested only behind closed doors, and between his responsibilities as captain and hers as ruler they couldn’t afford much downtime for any...involved sessions. He appreciated their long nights together regardless. Zelda grew more bold in her interactions with him, sometimes laying her hand on the back of his neck or pressing her slippered feet against his calves under the table to remind him of her authority. Their scholarly excursions occasionally turned sexual, but neither of them could afford anything more than heavy petting or languid kisses before they had to return to their respective tasks. 

Professionally, Link was forced to step back as Zelda’s chief protector. She made it clear that she would remain un-shadowed when they were alone, but in any other context she was now chaperoned by a revolving group of Sheikah hand-selected by Impa herself. Link was amicable with the Sheikah, undoubtedly trusted Impa’s judgement, and recognized it was a point of pride for their people to reclaim their duty protecting the royal family. But it still chafed something deep and instinctual inside of him to know that he’d been ousted as the princess’ personal guard. 

Despite this, no one answered to her in the same manner Link did, which was a small comfort. As time passed he grew more comfortable with the fact that he was her subordinate privately, when publicly he was now her cooperative on political grounds. He became more reliant on the brief, possessive passes Zelda cleverly performed in full view of others, which both settled his nerves and washed him in anticipatory lust. Eventually he was buzzing with need for her to dominate him once more.

“You’re thinking again,” came Zelda’s voice from behind. 

Jolted out of his thoughts, Link turned to face her: he now slept in her personal quarters every night, another privilege which no one else could claim. “I wish I wouldn’t,” he said. “I’ve been thinking way too much.” 

Zelda smiled and slipped closer, till the supple fabric of her nightgown pressed against his side. “You’re not one to study, that’s for certain.” Her hand found his chest under the covers. “I am proud of you.” 

Link lowered his eyes, swallowing. “Thank you, princess.” 

“You’ll be back out in the field soon,” she said. “Is it the upcoming campaign that’s got you nervous?” 

By this she meant the parliamentary edict to clear out the travel routes surrounding the castle. Lofty on paper, in practice it was nothing more than a trial run for Link’s students, who were to round up any nearby bandits. Once the roads were sieged his strongest soldiers would then establish a subsequent patrol. It would not only test Link’s teachings but also confirm whether his military was adept enough to manage organized functions, which would bode well for long-term success. There was a lot riding on the mission, but it wasn’t Link’s main concern right now. 

“I miss you,” he admitted. 

Zelda made a soft sound. “I’m here, Link.” 

“No, I mean…” He looked up, unable to voice his thoughts. “Mistress…” 

“Ah,” Zelda said. She dragged her hand up his chest toward the column of his throat, the weight of her palm both a promise and a threat. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” 

“Yes,” Link whispered. 

“Poor pet,” Zelda tittered. Her thumb stroked his jugular. “Every time I touch you like this, have you had such thoughts?” 

Link nodded, already beginning to lose cognitive function. 

Zelda grinned. “That is a lot of thinking, indeed.” She added the slightest bit of pressure to his neck. Not enough to cut off his airways, but enough to send static through his head. “What would you have me do, Link? Lay claim to you then and there? In front of all the representatives? In front of your knights?” 

“Zelda,” Link whined.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she asked, her eyes lighting up with mirth. 

“Yes,” Link said. Zelda grasped his throat, effectively choking him now. “Yes, mistress,” he rectified. 

She loosened her grip. “How scandalous. My pet has such a dirty mind.” Her touch moved upward and she folded his hair behind his ear. “Perhaps I should have you in my lap on the throne. Now  _ there _ is a thought.” 

Link squeezed his eyes shut against the image that popped into his mind: Zelda in full royal regalia, himself in her lap in full knightly uniform, a telling bulge hidden within her skirts pressing up against his buttocks, on the underside of his cock. “Mistress,” he breathed. “Please…” 

Zelda kissed his temple. “Relax, Link. I will take care of you.” 

She peeled off his side, slid out of bed, and walked toward an armoire on the opposite side of the room. Link situated himself across the mattress, legs spread in wait. Through half-lidded eyes he watched Zelda return with her chosen tools in hand. Since officiating their sexual roles she’d acquired several toys by means Link was gladly ignorant of. Some could be attached to harnesses which allowed Zelda to fuck him, but that was a special occasion she did not often indulge in, if only because it drove both of them wild and required hours to come down from. 

Generally she preferred to simply employ one of her phallic rods, fucking him by hand. With muted sadness and great amusement she had informed Link that, per Urbosa’s input, Gerudo designs were unmatched. The toy she climbed back into bed with was made of smooth, glossy ceramic, and featured a bulbous shaft. Link eyed it with excited trepidation. 

Zelda unceremoniously yanked the blankets off of him, along with his pants. He’d ceased wearing undershorts to bed in the secret hope that she may take advantage of him. More often than not it simply led to insufferable erections that chafed against the coarse fabric of his trousers, except on nights like this. 

“Desperate, are you,” Zelda said, noting that his cock was already firm and red. Her cool hand felt like ice when she lazily pumped his shaft.

Link’s throat bobbed. “Yes, mistress.” 

Her touch vanished. Link whined, his legs writhing instinctively. Zelda held his thigh down with one hand and, with the other now slick with oil, probed beneath his cock and balls. Link hitched his hips up in response, inviting her closer; her fingertip entered him and he moaned, a blush exploding across his face. 

“Maybe my fingers will suffice,” Zelda said as she pressed deeper. “You’re already so worked up.” 

Link shook his head. “No. Please. More. I need—” 

“I’m kidding,” she reassured. “It won’t do you well to be wanting me tomorrow.” 

“I always want you,” Link said. “Need you. Please…” 

“You have me,” Zelda promised, then added a second finger. 

Link tossed his head back, his flanks tightening as his body bore down against the unnatural, addictive intrusion. Zelda scissored him open, widening and curling her fingers, taking up a pattern of movement that stretched his inner walls and burned his outer rim despite the oil lubricant. It was a violation, a possession that he felt deep within himself; it lanced through his lower back, up his spine, behind his eyes and down again. 

Zelda continued her work until his entire body was circulating with pleasure. Link could do nothing but pant and attempt to wrangle his unrepentant, breathy moans at a discreet volume. She forced her fingers deeper, wider, and grazed his prostate. Link’s hand flew to his mouth; he clamped down onto the meat of his thumb so as to not wake the entire castle. 

Zelda massaged the spot till it became unbearable then removed her fingers. Link felt both relief and regret at the loss. He was stretched open, exposed, clenching around Zelda’s absence in search of something that would fill the uncomfortable emptiness which left him disconcerted and teary-eyed. 

He let his hand, marked by his teeth and covered in drool, drop to his side, then messily shoved his bangs out of his eyes to see Zelda drizzling oil over the toy. He gyrated his hips, as if that would fasten her. “Mistress, please.” 

“Patience, pet,” Zelda admonished without looking up. 

Link clenched his teeth. Whitenoise sounded between his ears. His cock bowed against his stomach, heavy and dripping pre-cum. He bid himself to remain still, all the while trembling with need. When Zelda finally flicked her hair back and knelt over him, still fully clothed in her nightgown, he groaned with premature satisfaction. 

She paused, the toy pressed up against him, and lifted her eyes. “Yes?” 

“You’re pretty,” Link said. 

Zelda blinked, then smiled, her expression innocent and bereft of put-upon sadism. Sometimes her face changed and the past one hundred years were washed away. “You’re sweet, Link.”

Then, with a gentle thrust, she split him open. 

“Ah!” Link’s back left the bed as he lifted up on his feet, inadvertently squeezing around the head of the toy. 

Zelda shushed him, swirling the toy in slow circles whilst stroking the strong plane of his pelvis, scratching her nails through his pubic hair. “Control yourself.” 

“Can’t,” Link gurgled. He sniffed loudly, every tendon in his body pulled to maximum tautness while he accustomed himself to her penetration. His legs gave out and he winced in pain when the clumsy landing jostled the toy inside of him. 

Zelda thrusted the toy again, pushing its head all the way in; the beginning of the shaft caught on Link’s rim, and he cried out in mild pain and greater pleasure. “That’s it, dear,” she said, still softly petting him. She continued filling him up, pausing every inch or so as Link got acquainted, until the toy bottomed out—a massive, heavy, thick weight that nearly cleaved him in half. 

“Hhh,” Link intoned, overwhelmed. 

He couldn’t stop moaning. His chest vibrated with the noise as his heart hammered alongside. Zelda played with the toy, angling it up and down and left and right, lest he tighten up in the interim. Each directional shift stole the breath out of his lungs and knocked him lower into this new, airy headspace. Every now and then a simmering, internal pain flared throughout his pelvis as the princess worked him open wider, only to transmute into pleasure that was sent to his cock. 

Beneath the sound of his moans he could hear Zelda murmuring sweet encouragements, and latched onto the softspoken, melodic quality of her voice. He wished to see her, but amidst his wiggling his hair had fallen over his eyes again. Spreadeagle beneath her, his limbs would not react to his mental command. He hurriedly shook his head, his moans sharpening with anxious frustration. 

Zelda stilled, as did the toy. “Link?” 

“Mistress,” he said, beyond coherent thought. “Mistress, please, please, please—”

“Does it hurt?” Zelda asked. “Shall I…?”

Link’s powerful thighs contracted as he tightened around the toy, which Zelda had begun pulling out. “No!” 

“You’re worrying me,” Zelda said, though she did not remove the toy. She reached up with her other hand and finally brushed his bangs off his eyes. “Use your words, my pet. What’s the matter?” 

Link swallowed, licked his lips, and found he could not speak. His chest continued its erratic rhythm. He glanced down, as if he could visualize the great mass setting his body alight. All he could see was his cock, red and weeping. Zelda followed his gaze. When her fingers grazed his shaft, however, he shuddered with overstimulation and mewled pitifully. 

She immediately retracted her hand as well as released the toy. Its base tilted onto the bed, canting the tip upward inside of him. Link wheezed, gripping the bed sheets, his abdomen rolling with his uneven breaths. When Zelda reached for the toy his body reanimated, allowing him to snap his thighs shut, blocking her access. 

“Don’t,” he begged when she turned to him. “Stay. Please.” 

She leant down and nosed his jaw. “You’re shaking like a leaf,” she whispered. “Is it too much?” 

“No,” Link said. 

Her lips thinned. “Be honest.” 

“It’s not,” Link insisted. “Just—a lot.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Zelda said. 

Link scoffed, growing genuinely annoyed. “I’ve been through worse, princess.” 

“I do not mean physically.” She rose again and tapped his thighs. “Open your legs, pet.” Link hesitated, and she dug her nails into his flesh. “Now.” 

Link released a shaky breath and obeyed. He whimpered mournfully as Zelda slid the toy out of him. Abruptly empty, a cold sweat washed over him, and he shivered. Tears spawned at the corners of his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

Zelda’s jaw hardened. “What have I told you about apologizing?” 

Link blinked, his chest quickening. “I’m sorry, princess—Ngh!” 

“That is enough,” Zelda snapped, her fist locked around Link’s balls. She relaxed her hand and began petting the sensitive skin of his scrotum. “We need rules. First among them being if you are ever overwhelmed, you will tell me immediately. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, mistress,” Link said. 

“I do not care how badly you wish to continue,” Zelda went on. “I do not want to see you in such a state.” She bent down and kissed his stomach, his navel, the slant of his hipbones. “I want to make you feel good.” 

“You do,” Link said. 

Zelda glanced up, her hair spilling over her shoulder and cascading across his side. “At the cost of your own comfort?” 

Link pressed his lips together and looked away. 

“That’s what I thought,” Zelda said. 

She traced a path toward his cock with her mouth. Link twitched nervously the closer she neared, but she made no attempt to pleasure him there. Instead she moved further, sliding lower on the bed, her chin resting between his thighs. Her tongue unfurled along the underside of his balls; Link exhaled harshly, calmed by the slow, methodical treatment she was bestowing upon him. 

Once his balls were glistening with her saliva, she lifted her head and wiped her mouth. “Hold your legs up, please.” 

Link rolled his head forward, his brow furrowed. “Huh?” 

Zelda cupped his thighs, motivating him to bend his legs. “Like this.” 

He followed through, tucking his knees against his chest, his arms slung under his knees. The position squashed his cock into his stomach and left him irrevocably exposed elsewhere. He could not see Zelda, so he simply leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Her breath fanned across his skin as she nibbled his thighs and buttocks, the bridge of her nose pressing against his perineum in a way that caused his balls to tighten. 

Link realized with sudden clarity that she had figured out what he’d been so desperate for: absolute submission, which he had mistakenly substituted with physical duress. Having honed his body as both a shield and weapon, he supposed it was logical of him to extend the same thought process to sex—taking whatever given even when it became, in Zelda’s words, too much. 

She’d masterfully deciphered his unspoken thoughts and diverted course, all without his knowing. He ached internally, wishing to be full again, but was able to recognize that he’d been wanting it for the wrong reasons. The soft, meandering sort of exploration Zelda undertook now was just as domineering, if from the opposite end of the spectrum. 

Link’s forearms strained as he pulled his legs tighter, trying to achieve friction on his trapped cock. Then all of a sudden Zelda laid her tongue flat against his gaped opening, and his hold slackened; his neck craned upward, his jaw unhinging with a deep, low groan. Zelda lapped at him, her oral ministrations aided by whatever remaining oil leaked out of him. She pressed her fingertips against him—not entering, just applying pressure—and spread him open further so that her tongue had more to consume. 

A hot flash crackled up Link’s body and fizzled across his chest. “Mistress—” 

Zelda silenced him, reaching up to bat his thighs apart, and encircled his cock in her fist. He was wet enough now that his pre-cum served as natural lubricant. She sped up and slowed down at random, sometimes smearing her palm over his tip before shucking his length again. This unpredictable pace, coupled by her licking and suckling his sore passage, sent his mind reeling. 

Link felt himself drop deeper and deeper into nothingness. It shrank smaller and smaller into a singular point, then exploded. He yelled out and pumped his hips into Zelda’s fist. She bit down hard on his thigh, commanding him to still, and sought the end of his climax whilst continuing to eat him out, the imprint of her teeth on his skin pulsating hotly. 

Cum dribbled out of Link’s cock, down her hand, along his thighs and stomach. After one final pass of her tongue, Zelda guided his legs flat on the bed; Link was shocked to realize his joints and muscles were sore and shivering with pent-up tension. Zelda ran her hands down his legs until he relaxed, then licked his cum off his skin. She also swallowed his over-sensitive cock into her mouth—by the time he’d whined with overstimulation, she’d already popped off, a bead of cum stuck on her glistening bottom lip. 

Link stared up at her in a sleepy daze. She smiled, lifted the skirt of her nightgown, and slotted herself along his thigh. He dropped his head, too overcome to react to the wetness smearing across his skin as she grinded her clit into his leg. A small gasp was the only sign of her impending release; a mess of translucent cum followed, spilling down his thigh onto the sheets.

Zelda continued rutting against him, chasing after a second orgasm. Link was happy to be used. He blearily shifted in and out of half-sleep, repeatedly reawakened by her delighted moans. By the time she was finished the air was heady with the scent of sex and his thigh was painted red with friction. 

She thumped beside him, as energized by sex as he was exhausted, and laid her hand on his jaw. “Your body is mine,” she said. 

Link turned into the pillow beneath his head with a whine, lacking the brain power to continue their game. “Zelda…” 

“It’s mine,” she repeated. “Not yours. Whatever limits you’ve made for yourself, forget them.” 

“I never had any,” Link mumbled. 

“That,” Zelda said, “is the problem, my pet.” She gathered him against her chest and ran her fingers through his hair. “Sleep, now. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.” 

He was awoken the next morning by a servant knocking on the door. Link, a light sleeper by definition save for the one century-long nap, roused immediately. He slipped out from Zelda’s hold, threw on his discarded pants, and answered the door. 

“Yes?” 

The servant, a young girl from a nearby farming hamlet, blushed profusely at seeing his bare chest. “Ah—sir Link—the princess requested that I make sure you’re awake on time.” 

Link glanced over his shoulder at Zelda, fast asleep, then back at the servant. “Right, well. I’m awake. Thanks.” 

She nodded, giggling. “Of course.” 

Link shut the door after her with a sigh. 

“It seems you have fans,” Zelda yawned. 

He spun around, brow raised. “You’re awake?” 

She smiled, sitting up in bed. “If only they knew what occurred last night.” 

Link passed his hand over his sore backside, the tips of his ears pink. “If only.” 

They both dressed quickly then made their way downstairs—Zelda to her office to consult with Paya, and Link to the knights barracks to prepare his students. They were an eclectic bunch, half monarchist and half independent, but they all wanted to see Hyrule flourish which was good enough for Link. He knew that differing opinions would eventually cause a schism, should the ragtag military survive till that point, upon which he’d be forced to play as a neutral party despite his own personal fealty to Zelda. But that was the point, after all. What they did the night previous enabled him to separate himself from her during the day.

He and his soldiers went out to the castle lawns, where Zelda met them with Paya in tow. In the eyes of the monarchists she was their princess; in the eyes of the independents she was nothing more than the parliament’s chairwoman. To Link, she was his mistress, and a friend. 

She pulled him aside once she finished addressing the troops, feigning as a ruler speaking to her minister of defense, but the dark glint of her eyes revealed the true context; under cover of a large oak tree, she gripped Link by the throat and gave him a sweltering kiss. 

He’d never been handled by her like this whilst wearing his knight uniform, and the implications of it sent a pang of lust to his core. “Mistress,” he sighed.

“Minister,” she retorted, leaning back with a beguiling grin. “I expect a full debriefing upon your safe return.” 

He blinked away his arousal and straightened his shoulders. “Yes, princess.” 

“Very well, then.” She gave him a short bow. “May the goddess watch over you.” 

Link snorted, unwilling to entertain her joking charade. “See you later, Zelda.” 

She smiled. “See you later, Link.”


End file.
